


The essence of love

by Anarion



Series: One-Shots [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-05
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 12:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/356918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Insecure!Sherlock needs John to find a two-word-way to tell him that he loves him. Angst. Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The essence of love

Sherlock would never admit to it, but he was out of his depth, had been for the past weeks actually.

Since that night, after a chase for clues through half of London, when they were standing in the hallway side by side, leaning on the wall, trying to catch their breaths. Sherlock remembered the first time they ended up there, the night after they met. He had felt the attraction then, he felt it now. But he had no idea what to do with it.

Luckily for both of them, John had. He suddenly said, "Ok, that's it," and invaded Sherlock's personal space.

Sherlock had always been comfortable with John being physically closer to him than other people. Now close was suddenly not nearly close enough anymore. He wanted to melt into John, remove the boundaries between them, and become one single entity.

John's lips on his - soft and intriguing, his breath ghosting over Sherlock's face – warm, hands touching every spot they could reach – burning his skin. Then John's tongue invaded his mouth and Sherlock's brain stopped. Data flow overload.

The next few days he spent in a blur of emotions: excitement, happiness, insecurity and arousal. Everything was new. He was not sure he liked it.

He liked John, that was not in question. Probably even loved him. But all these feelings! They were overwhelming and distracting. He would never admit to it but they even scared him a little.

John, of course, noticed. And reacted in a very clever way.

He got him a case.

And Sherlock learned that being with John did not mean that he had to become part of one of these boring, disgusting couples, who either shared mushy declarations of love in public or quarrelled and had nothing to talk about.

Nothing really had to change, except for the fact that a lot of bodily fluids were exchanged behind the closed doors of 221B Baker Street. And maybe even some mushy declarations of love. Don't tell anyone!

~°~

A few weeks later Lestrade called them in on the case of a dead man, poisoned in his own living room. They went to interview his wife, who was with him while he died. Sherlock was completely irritated by the slightly hysterical woman with the blotched face who burst into tears at nearly everything he said and had a tendency to repeat herself at least three times. John had to intervene on several occasions.

It took her a while to tell them what happened, because she started with her dinner preparations in full detail. When she was done with that, Sherlock had already come up with 17 distinct ways of killing her and getting rid of the body without anybody noticing. Well, except for John, who was looking at him accusingly. Again.

Sherlock tuned back in to the woman telling them how her husband dropped down in the kitchen and that she was certain his last words were meant to be a declaration of his love.

"And then he said 'Mara', that's my name, I am Mara, well, he said 'Mara, I…' and I just know that he wanted to tell me that he loved me."

Sherlock huffed but John kicked his ankle before he could say anything. John noticed that Sherlock was about to snap, so he said to the woman that he was very sorry for her loss and that they would leave now.

Outside, the first thing John said was, "She didn’t do it." 

"No, she is far too stupid."

"Sherlock!"

"What? She is. He could have said a number of things, anything from 'I hate you' to 'I am afraid' or 'I don’t want to die'. Or any other stupid thing that comes to ordinary people's minds when they die."

"He probably had a certain way to say her name before telling her he loved her. Plus you usually know these things."

"I don’t."

"No, you really don’t." John didn’t say it with malice or disappointment, he just stated a fact. Nevertheless it made Sherlock think.

~°~

That evening, John was sitting on the sofa watching telly, Sherlock suddenly blurted out "You know that I love you, right? Even if I don’t say it very often..."

‘Try almost never’ a greedy part of John whispered. ‘Not now!’ the compassionate part of John rushed in.

"Sherlock, what is going on? Of course I know."

"I was thinking about that woman. How she clings to the hope that her husband's last words were of love. John, what would you want me to say to you when I die?"

"What kind of fucking question is that?"

"I don’t want you to be left alone, wondering, like her. So imagine that I will die, probably violent given my line of work, and I don’t have much time left. He had breath for two words. What two words do you want me to say?"

"I don’t want to think about you dying!"

"John, it is the way of the world. Everybody dies. You’re a doctor, you know that. You see it every day."

"YES! Yes, I know. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want to think about the fact that you might die before me. Can we please drop the subject?"

Sherlock didn’t say anything else, but John could see that he was not done with the whole issue.

That night, when they lay in bed, Sherlock spooning John, pressing him as close to his body as possible, he brought it up again.

"John, we should really think about this. It doesn’t matter who of us dies first. We could come up with a code. The shortest way possible to tell that you… that we loved each other."

And there it was. 

It was not really about Sherlock wanting John to know that he loved him. Because Sherlock KNEW that he loved John. That much was obvious, wasn't it? 

It was about Sherlock needing to know that John loved him. Unfortunately John was too tired to pick up the real problem behind Sherlock's request.

"I don't want to come up with short ways of telling you that I love you. I want to use a lot of words. And my hands. And my mouth. And possibly other parts of me."

"That is not very practicable."

"Ok, I promise you I will think of a two-word-way to tell you that I love you. Can we go to sleep now, please?"

~°~

Two weeks later, they had a fight.

What had started as a petty argument, the kind they had almost everyday, had escalated into a screaming match that Mrs Turner's tenants could probably hear (forget about them, the whole street could hear). The walls shook, Mrs Hudson's ceiling lamp trembled and plates were smashed. 

It got to the point where John was so furious that he feared he might actually hit Sherlock right in the face. He decided to walk out instead.

Sherlock had never thought that possible. He knew John was sometimes really angry at him, but this time it was different. It was their first fight as a couple. God that sounded stupid. A couple. He tried saying it a few times in his head, but it still sounded wrong. 

If he couldn't see them as a couple in his head maybe they weren't? Maybe he just imagined all this, John never loved him, just used him to satisfy his needs. Maybe John was already tired of him, of his intellect, his way of living. Maybe they never had a chance of becoming more than friends having sex. Great, now he was freaking out. 

He spent the night folded into his armchair, eyes never leaving the door. What if John did not come back? Sherlock had always thought it would be the other way round. Him getting bored of John and ending it. Not that he could imagine getting bored of John ever, but that was what he did. He got bored.

~°~

John came back. Of course he did. 

~°~

After walking through the quiet streets of a late-night London for hours he felt calm enough to go back. He didn’t even remember how the whole thing got blown out of proportion that much. He remembered how it started though. Sherlock, being his usual insensitive charming self, made a cold comment about John being stupid again. John had already been angry because Sherlock had been supposed to buy some food and pay the rent, both of which he ignored in favour of lying on the couch grumbling ‘Bored!’ every twenty seconds. 

When he entered the flat he was greeted by the sight of Sherlock folded into his armchair, facing the door. Somehow he looked like a little boy lost in the woods.

The last of John’s anger vanished like morning mist when the sun comes up and he walked over to the chair. He was about to say something when Sherlock flung himself at him, nearly toppling both of them to the ground.

John felt Sherlock press his face against his neck, mumbling unintelligibly. It took John a while to figure out that the litany that stumbled out of Sherlock’s mouth was his name. Over and over and over again.

~°~

In the next days it became clear that the fight changed something. Sherlock was acting differently. Not clingy or overly affectionate, he would probably never be that, but more polite and tender. 

John watched this and Sherlock’s insecurity made his heart ache. He tried to talk to him, explain the fact that fights happen. They don't mean the end. Sherlock snapped, “I know that.” But apparently knowing and believing were two different things here. 

John felt at a loss. What could he do to reassure Sherlock? 

And then he knew. He smiled.

~°~

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa and did not know what to do. Since the fight he was always triple checking before saying or doing anything and he knew that he was not himself. But the fear of losing John was overwhelming. If he just could be sure that John loved him everything would be alright.

He looked up out of the corner of his eyes. John was watching him with that look that always made him feel weak and strong at the same time. And he smiled a smile that set a swarm of butterflies off in his stomach.

And Sherlock felt that whatever John was about to say was important. Very important. Possibly crucial.

”Sherlock.” John said, waiting until the other locked eyes with him. Still smiling.

 

“Now. Always.“

 

**Author's Note:**

> Now available in Chinese: http://www.mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=85449&extra=   
> Thank you, Citron! :D


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